


Shift my Shape

by pocketclocked



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dubious Consent, M/M, Selkies, mythical creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 05:39:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3558137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketclocked/pseuds/pocketclocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps it was only his imagination that Jude was something not altogether human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Well apparently I have a Thing for mythical creature AUs. So here is a Thing! In two parts.
> 
> Also here is the great mix that I listened to while writing this that you should listen to while you read! http://lordbelatiel.tumblr.com/post/100679797620/abhorsen

Alvin was in love with the fishmonger.

Or, rather, his apprentice. The fishmonger himself was a decent sort of man, though a bit dull and, as a result of his trade, smelly. His apprentice, though. He was beautiful in a way that couldn’t quite be real.

At first, Alvin had almost mistaken him for a woman. He had such petit features, and a soft, full mouth. His clothes fit poorly, like they were secondhand, and masked the boy’s slight frame. It was only when he spoke to him that he realized he had been wrong. The boy’s voice was quiet, but unmistakably male.

“It’s nice to meet you, Alvin. I’m Jude.”

Jude was the beautiful boy who worked for the fishmonger.

And Alvin was in love with him.

-

If Alvin’s uncle had been with them, there would be no end to the teasing. Luckily, he wasn’t. It was just Alvin and his ailing mother, and occasionally the nurse when Alvin had to leave for business.

The rest of the village knew enough about her sickness not to ask about it, but it didn’t stop them from gossiping when they thought he couldn’t hear.

He wasn’t surprised when Jude finally asked about it. He _was_ surprised when the boy offered to visit and see if he could help.

“Healers have looked at her before. There’s nothing that can be done.”

Jude smiled. “Just trust me, Alvin.”

The man’s heart flip-flopped into his throat. “Okay,” he croaked.

-

Jude arrived that afternoon, carrying a small knapsack and a skin of fresh water. He looked out of place in Alvin’s home, fragile and otherworldly despite the poorly fitting clothes and assurance in his movements. As always, Alvin could never pinpoint exactly what it was that made Jude seem so unearthly. Away from the stall where he worked, he smelled like saltwater, herbs, and copper. His hair was dark, permanently windswept from the sea breeze. And his eyes, though an unnatural shade of gold that Alvin had never seen before, were always too warm and crinkled in a smile.

Perhaps it was only his imagination that Jude was something not altogether human.

Jude talked about himself as he prepared a cup of tea that smelled strongly of rosemary and sage. He lived alone outside of the village, closer to the coast, and was often fishing when he was not working in the village. He had a few friends in the village, but not always much time to spend with them. His parents he did not mention, and Alvin didn’t pry.

He also mentioned no lover, though Alvin itched to ask about that.

When the tea was finished brewing, he poured a cup and coaxed Alvin’s mother to sip at it. She stubbornly refused, but Jude smiled and offered to sing for her if she promised to drink it. Alvin smiled softly. His mother may have forgotten him, but she had not forgotten music.

The agreement made, Jude settled back in his chair and began to sing.

It was extraordinary.

Though in no language that Alvin had ever heard before, the song was startlingly familiar and beautiful. Alvin closed his eyes, feeling as though he were adrift in a pleasantly warm sea, waves bearing him toward the promise of something wonderful. There was a quality to it that should have been eerie, the way Jude’s voice seemed to echo in a way that voices shouldn’t, but Alvin found it hard to focus on when he could drift so peacefully.

Alvin opened his eyes.

Jude was _glowing_. There was a subtle yet unmistakable shimmer in the air around him, and when he opened his eyes to smile at Alvin, there were sparks snapping in the amber. Alvin swallowed, and focused on those eyes; the pot of tea, the perfectly average dining room table, everything normal and ordinary fell away until Alvin was _sure_ that Jude was not human.

-

For two weeks he visited every afternoon, filling their small home with the smell of saltwater and rosemary, and the lilting sound of his voice. His mother still did not remember him, but she was healthy and happy in every other way. Alvin contented himself with this, and with Jude’s visits.

He told himself he did not need to know what Jude was. This was enough.

It would be enough.

-

It wasn’t enough.

One evening, as Jude packed away his herbs, Alvin’s hand closed over his.

“Stay,” he begged quietly. His mother had fallen asleep during Jude’s song, and Alvin had almost done the same. He suspected Jude may have done it on purpose, as he had on other occasions when Alvin had thought about asking.

“For dinner?” Jude’s eyes twinkled, and he was smiling. His skin was still shimmering, as though it were giving off heat.

Alvin’s throat was tight. “If that’s what you want.”

Jude cooked for them, and they talked quietly so as not to disturb Alvin’s mother in the other room. Alvin told Jude about some of his mercenary jobs, and Jude talked about the sunrises near his little cabin on the rocky coast. Alvin couldn’t take his eyes off of the young man, desperate to reach across the small table and hold him.

After dinner, he gave in and kissed Jude. His mouth was soft, if not a bit chapped, and Alvin felt it pull into a smile before Jude wrapped his arms around him. When Alvin slipped a hand under his shirt, he felt lean muscle shifting beneath the skin and delighted in the noise Jude made as he dragged his blunt nails across it.

They ended up sprawled sideways on Alvin’s bed, Alvin’s hand around them both, and Jude rocking against him with stuttering little gasps and moans. It’s only afterward that Alvin realized Jude’s skin was still glowing faintly, warm and a bit feverish. His cheeks were flushed, and he grinned and leaned forward to kiss Alvin again, slow and longing.

When he got up to leave, Alvin wrapped his hand around Jude’s wrist. “Stay, please.”

Jude smiled warmly. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Then he kissed Alvin’s hand and left.

-

Jude stayed late almost every night, rising only once Alvin was on the verge of sleep. He would press a kiss to the man’s temple and promise to see him again in the morning.

If Alvin had been a good man, he would have left it at that.

But he wasn’t.

-

One night, he waited until Jude had left before slipping out. He followed the young man up the rocky coastline to the lonely cabin, and watched as Jude shed his clothes and stretched in the moonlight. It made him even more ethereal, pale skin pulling and shifting with strange, spotted patterns as he moved.

Then he watched as Jude pulled a small cloak over his shoulders. It spread, covering him, until he sank down and slipped silently into the ocean.

Alvin waited all night, hunched into his cloak and watching. At dawn, a sleek shape emerged, pale grey and spotted with black beads for eyes. Yawning, it stretched.

And continued to stretch. The skin pulled, impossibly, before peeling back into the cloak that Alvin had seen the night before.

Jude shook out his wet hair, smiling at the sunrise. He stowed his cloak in the cabin, pulling on his too-large clothes, and grabbed his pack to head into town. Alvin stayed hidden, feeling like a traitor. When Jude had vanished, he stumbled forward on half-frozen limbs to the cabin.

The cloak was soft and silky, already dry, with the spotted patterns that Alvin had seen just moments ago. It was warm in his hands, and smelled like saltwater, herbs, and copper. Somehow he knew, if he had the cloak, he would have Jude.

If Alvin had been a good man, he would have put the cloak back and left. He would have never followed Jude in the first place.

But Alvin wasn’t a good man.

And so Alvin did what a good man would never have done—he stole it.


	2. Part II

He locked the cloak away in a chest and stowed it under his mother’s bed, hands shaking with betrayal and something darker, more triumphant.

When Jude arrived that afternoon, he looked grief-stricken. Alvin didn’t question how he would already know, but couldn’t bring himself to say anything or even look Jude in the eye.

Jude watched him for a moment, and then sighed like something had broken.

“Alright, Alvin. I understand.”

-

Alvin couldn’t listen to Jude sing, afterwards. His songs had always been pleasant and soothing in the past. Now Alvin couldn’t escape the haunting eeriness that lurked behind their beauty. Although he still couldn’t understand the words, their tone was heart-rending, sung by someone that was no longer whole. On one occasion, when he had dared to stay, he opened his eyes to find that he had been crying.

Jude’s skin no longer glowed when he sang.

Some afternoons, after singing to his mother, Jude would slip quietly out of the house and make his way to the coast, where his cabin was. He wouldn’t go into the water, but would spend hours staring at it with an intense, inhuman longing. Alvin stopped following him, unable to watch, and avoided the knowing eyes of the villagers when he returned.

Despite all of it, Jude smiled in the evenings when they ate, and curled into Alvin’s side at night, skin bright and flushed. Alvin figured he should have felt relieved; instead, he felt sick.

The cloak sang out to him on those nights when he couldn’t sleep, cursing him from its prison. It sounded like crashing waves, the kind that toppled ships and smashed sailors to pieces. With the same surety that Jude could not leave him as long as he had the cloak, Alvin knew that going near the ocean now would mean his death.

He always took the cloak with him when he left, terrified that he would return home to find Jude gone, along with the pelt. Something in him refused to admit that it was _Alvin_ who was untrustworthy.

-

“He’s dying, Alvin.”

“I don’t have time for this, Leia,” Alvin snapped, irritable. Leave it to the healer’s daughter to corner him the moment he set foot in the village again. All he wanted was a hot bath, and to see—

She took a step in front of him, cutting him off. “Then make time,” she snapped back, eyes narrowed. “You can stay away as long as you want, but just know that the next time you go, he’ll die.”

Alvin grit his teeth. “He’s fine. It’s just has a fever. It’s perfectly normal.”

“You know it’s more than a fever, Alvin.” Leia stepped closer, voice low and vicious. “You know what he is, and it’s _your fault_ he’s dying.”

“Leave us alone,” Alvin snarled, and pushed past her without another glance.

He tried to ignore the twisting feeling in his gut, and the way Leia’s eyes followed him as he trudged the rest of the way home.

-

Jude was drifting in and out of sleep in the chair furthest from the fire when Alvin walked in. The noise must have woken him, because he turned his head and smiled when he saw who it was.

“Welcome back,” he murmured. His voice was scratchy, and when he reached out to Alvin, the mercenary grimaced at the heat coming off his skin. “You were gone a long time.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Alvin whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of Jude’s hand. It was dry and cracked. His heart ached. How long now had he told himself it was just a fever?

“Alvin…” Jude was staring out the window, seeing far beyond the village, to the coastline. “I’m sorry.”

“Wha-“

“I know you’re lonely here. That’s why you stole my pelt.” Jude turned to him, tears leaking out of dull gold eyes. “But I would have _stayed_ , Alvin. I would have stayed with you. And now…” he trailed off, quiet, looking back out the window.

“…Now you’re dying.” Alvin swallowed thickly. “It’s my fault.”

“I miss the ocean, Alvin,” Jude whispered. Then he sighed, suddenly more frail than Alvin had ever seen him. “I’d like to see it, one more time, if I could.”

Something shifted within Alvin then, and he grasped Jude’s shoulders firmly. “You will.”

-

His mother was awake and darning an old shirt when he came in. She looked up and offered a stranger’s smile when she saw him.

“Leticia.”

“Can I help you, young man?”

Alvin smiled, the weight of his sadness crushing. “No, nothing. I’m sorry to bother you.”

His mother hummed agreement and then went back to her project. After another moment, as Alvin turned to leave, she cleared her throat.

“There’s another young man who sings to me.” She looked sharply at Alvin. “He seems very sad.”

He couldn’t meet her eyes. “I know. I… I’m trying to fix it.”

Turned away, he didn’t see his mother smile. “You’re a good man, Alfred. You’ll figure it out.”

Alvin’s heart kicked in his chest, but when he spun around, Laticia was back to work on her shirt. He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat.

“Thank you.”

-

He had to carry Jude to the coast. In his pack, the cloak hummed the closer they got to the water, until it was practically singing. It wasn’t the eerie noise that haunted Alvin’s dreams, but reminiscent of the songs that Jude used to sing, with gentle waves and warm water.

When they reached the cabin, Jude shifted to wrap his arms around Alvin’s neck, pulling himself up to kiss him. Alvin nearly stumbled in surprise, before holding Jude tighter and groaning against the press of their lips. The ocean rumbled nearby, still promising death if Alvin wandered too close.

Leaning Jude against the door of the cabin, Alvin dug through his pack until he found it. It was still incredibly soft, and for a moment, Alvin didn’t want to give it up. Then Jude coughed weakly, and he grit his teeth.

“What do I do?”

“Wrap it around my shoulders,” Jude whispered, barely audible over the sound of crashing waves. He had stripped down at some point while Alvin had gone through his pack. Trying to ignore how flushed Jude’s skin was, Alvin did as he was told, settling the cloak gently over him.

Nothing happened.

“Jude.” Alvin struggled not to panic. He couldn’t be too late, not after everything else. But Jude’s eyes had slipped closed, and he was slumped against the door.

“No, no NO-“ Picking him up, cloak and all, Alvin stumbled toward the water. It roared with triumph, and Alvin paused for just a second. In his arms, Jude stirred, flecks of saltwater reaching him from the spray. Alvin stared down at him, too-warm and limp in his arms, and pressed a kiss to his forehead before leaping in.

Cold seized him, dragging at his clothes and skin and nearly making him gasp. He focused instead on Jude, who was awake and pulling the cloak close around himself. It shifted, stretching to envelop fingers and toes, and then tucking in close as it shrank down to fit the new body.

A new force suddenly held Alvin, knocking him backwards and shoving cold, wet fingers in his nose and mouth. He gasped for air, and sucked in water. His arms and legs felt pinned, and with startling clarity, he knew that he was going to die.

Oddly enough, he heard singing. Opening his eyes against the burn of the saltwater, he saw two black beads watching him from a pale grey face. Then something slammed into him, breaking him free of the vice. Kicking blindly, he broke to the surface and gulped down air.

When he reached the shore, the pale shape was gone. Alvin pulled himself far enough that the tide wouldn’t snatch him up later, and tried not to cry.

-

Leia found him on the beach, half-drowned with several bruised ribs. She helped him stumble home and bandaged him up once they got there, all the while shooting him sad, knowing looks.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, Alvin grumbled out his thanks and retreated to his room. The bed still smelled faintly of rosemary and sage, and Alvin fell into it with a sigh.

-

Jude didn’t come back the next day, or the one after. Not that Alvin was surprised. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Jude’s gold eyes, his beautiful voice, and how he’d said, “I would have _stayed_ , Alvin.”

If Alvin had been a better man, Jude would have stayed.

But he wasn’t.

-

Nine days later, Jude came back. It was nighttime, and he was naked, save for the speckled grey pelt wrapped around his waist.

“My clothes were gone,” was all he said when Alvin opened the door. Then he smiled and threw his arms around Alvin’s neck to kiss him soundly.

-

Alvin couldn’t get enough of Jude’s singing. It wasn’t just for his mother now—Jude sang all hours of the day, whether he was fishing, cooking, or working at the damn fishmonger stall. Happy, lilting tunes in his own language and Alvin’s.

The only time he wasn’t humming some tune was at night, when Alvin dragged low moans out of him with his hands and mouth.

Afterwards, Jude would kiss Alvin slow and long, and promise to be there in the morning. And Alvin smiled, tugged him in for another kiss—maybe more, if he could manage it—and then settled in to sleep.

In the morning, he would wake to Jude curled against him, skin damp and smelling faintly of fish.

A speckled grey pelt  was hanging on a peg to dry.

Alvin was in love with the fishmonger.


End file.
